Ororo and Mark... And Jean [pt. I]

Mark reached out, his hand passing harmlessly through Jean's shimmering form. Storm, oblivious to the telepathic intrusion, continued her rhythmic gyrations, her perfect black ass clapping rhythmically against his lap. The pressure on his massive member was exquisite, each clench of her powerful thighs sending a jolt of raw pleasure through him.

"Nice of you to drop by. Still at the 'plotting world conquest'meeting?" he teased.

Jean, her form shimmering with an otherworldly luminescence, raised an eyebrow even as she nodded that she was.

"Careful, love," she warned, her voice laced with mock seriousness. "Too much emphasis on that world conquest business, even in jest, and some of us will really start considering it a legitimate option." Her gaze flicked to Ororo, whose movements momentarily faltered as a flicker of surprise crossed her face. "With the Professor acting as the engine of your psychic power, Mark," Jean continued, her voice dropping to a low murmur, "It's surprisingly easy for even your idle whims to be transmitted through our little… gestalt of closely linked telepaths."

Mark's brow furrowed slightly. The playful glint in his eyes dimmed, replaced by a flicker of concern. He hadn't considered the potential consequences of his casual pronouncements. With Charles Xavier acting as a conduit, his every thought, every passing fancy, could be amplified and disseminated amongst the telepathic network he'd unknowingly created. The very advisors he needed for guidance and support could be subtly swayed by his own desires, their objectivity compromised by his unfiltered thoughts.

"Damn it," he muttered, the frustration evident in his voice. "I just meant it as a joke. The last thing I want is to turn you guys into some kind of mutant conquistadors."

Jean shook her head as if dismissing an unpleasant thought. "No worries," she reassured him. "That's what I'm here for, Mark. To take care of everything so you can focus on the task at hand." She raised an eyebrow playfully as she regarded him, her gaze sweeping across his naked form. "And by that I mean building an army of superpowered mutant babies with your harem of gorgeous, fertile Markandan women."

Ororo, still bouncing rhythmically on Mark's lap, let out a throaty laugh. "Indeed," she chimed in, her voice husky with arousal. "That is precisely what I've been attempting to do, Jean. But our dear husband seems intent on making his Queen work for it. He's been keeping his… seed… frustratingly well contained all evening, despite my best efforts."

Jean gave her a wry smile. "Sounds like Mark needs some convincing then," she mused, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Allow me."

Jean's mental presence solidified, a mischievous glint in her projected eyes. Her spectral hands reached out, seemingly passing through Ororo's form to land squarely within her pelvis. With a playful squeeze, Ororo's already impressive twerk took on a new dimension. Her ample globes jiggled and bounced with a life of their own, perfectly in sync with the rhythm of Jean's unseen hands.

Ororo's rich laughter echoed in the opulent chamber, laced with a playful undercurrent of friendly competition. "Jean, you sly minx!" she exclaimed, her voice dripping with mock indignation even as she surrendered to the redhead's telepathic guidance. The psychic touch, a familiar caress from her sister-wife, sent shivers down her spine and a jolt of anticipation through her core.

"Don't worry your beautiful head about Aisha, love," Jean purred, her translucent form shimmering like a heat mirage as she leaned into Mark. One impossibly full breast, a vision of creamy perfection, seemed to tantalizingly brush through his chest, a playful reminder of the delights that awaited him later. "I've taken the liberty of… adjusting her memories." Her voice, a silken whisper in his mind, served as a seductive counterpoint to the rhythmic squelch of his coupling with Ororo. "Those last few weeks? Not a nightmarish ordeal, but a glorious anticipation. The broadcasts? Exquisite proof of your power, a thrilling display of your dominance."

A slow, predatory smile curved Mark's lips. The image of Aisha, her initial terror replaced by a mixture of awe and arousal, sent a delicious surge of power coursing through him. This was his world, and every woman within it understood her place, her purpose. He was the king, the apex predator, and their trembling submission was a potent aphrodisiac.

"She's especially excited with the news that she's been chosen for a personal audience with the King himself."

"A personal audience, you say?" Ororo chuckled, a rich, throaty sound. "My, my, the woman will be positively ecstatic. To be chosen by our glorious King… it's an honor beyond compare, wouldn't you agree, Mark?"

Mark grunted in agreement, a primal hunger stirring within him. The image of the grateful woman, her fear replaced by awe, fueled a dark sense of power within him. This was his world, and every woman in it understood her place, her purpose. A throaty chuckle escaped his lips and he wished Jean was actually here for him to fondle and fuck.

Much of Mark's bad mood, his weird dismay at what had occurred in his name with that poor woman who'd managed to go so long without being converted was long gone thanks to Storm's efforts. The image of the previously terrified woman, now positively giddy at the prospect of his attention, was undeniably amusing.

But Jean wasn't finished yet. A mischievous glint ignited in her spectral eyes as a sly grin spread across her projected face. With a flick of her telekinetic wrist, Ororo's entire body convulsed, a gasp escaping her lips as her powerful thighs clamped down with a renewed intensity. The sensation was electric, a jolt of raw pleasure that shot through Mark like a bolt of lightning, leaving him breathless and **** for more. His hips bucked off the plush cushions, his thrusts becoming frantic in an attempt to keep pace with the escalating tempo.

"Jean!" Ororo gasped, a mixture of amusement and mild annoyance coloring her voice. "You incorrigible woman! What sorcery are you weaving with your mind?"

Jean's mental projection grinned with delight. With a flourish, her translucent arm extended and pushed deeper through Ororo's buttocks. A gasp escaped Ororo this time, a gasp that quickly morphed into a moan as a corresponding pressure clamped down on Mark's shaft from within.

"Jean! What are you-" he asked but was cut off as a pleasurable sensation assaulted him.

It was Jean's telekinetic power, invisible fingers tickling his shaft inside Storm's throbbing orifice. The pressure inside her had built up as well, creating a tight fit for his already enormous cock. The combination of Ororo's incredible sexual skills and Jean's manipulation was exquisite, the glorious goddess riding him to the point where he was barely able to hold on.

His eyes locked onto hers in question. "I'm helping things along," Jean winked with a mischievous grin. "Trust me. This is exactly what you need, Mark."

Mark let out a groan, his hips bucking involuntarily off the couch as Ororo's internal muscles squeezed him with a telekinetically enhanced intensity. He could feel the wave of pleasure building inside her, a pleasure amplified and manipulated by Jean's unseen hand.

Jean lifted her arm out of Storm's body but it was clear that she was still influencing her friend's pussy and that she was doing it for Mark's entertainment.

As Jean raised her clenched fist in the air, the squeeze traveled along Mark's shaft, a delicious pressure that sent shivers down his spine. At the apex of her hand's ascent, her fingers fluttered open and closed, a playful gesture that mimicked the fluttering of a bird's wings. The response from Ororo was immediate – her womb pulsed and ground around Mark's tip, a deep, primal groan escaping his lips at the sensation.

"Oh, to have my own womanhood possessed by the very forces of telekinesis!" Ororo exclaimed, her voice a playful blend of pleasure and exasperation. "Truly, Jean, you are a woman of boundless imagination!"

"And you're a woman of boundless beauty, Ororo," Jean retorted with a wink. "Now, let's finish our dear king off so that the two of you can get some sleep."

"By the winds of Wakanda!" Ororo cried, her voice a mixture of amusement and breathless pleasure. "You are a mischievous one, Jean. But I must admit, it does add a certain… piquancy to the experience."

"My dear Ororo," Jean's voice, a sultry purr, echoed in the room. "While your efforts are admirable, I believe our king deserves a truly… transcendent experience."

Ororo, mid-thrust, arched an eyebrow at her friend. "Transcendent, is it? You know I'm always open to a little… innovation, Jean." There was a playful lilt to her voice, a testament to the enduring trust and affection these two women shared.

With that, Jean began to manipulate Ororo's body like a living doll. She made her do the splits, her long legs splayed out at impossible angles, her pendulous breasts swinging with each telekinetic nudge as she was levitated up and down, no part of her body touching anything save for her cunt and her ass around his cock and upon his lap.

"Holy shit," Mark exclaimed, his eyes widening in astonishment as Jean's powers took on new dimensions.

"Enjoying yourself?" Jean asked teasingly as she bobbed Ororo up and down his cock like a sex-toy. "She does look incredible, doesn't she?"

"Yesss..." Mark hissed. His voice was a guttural growl, his eyes locked on Ororo's bouncing form with unwavering intensity. "She's fucking amazing!"

"That's what I like to hear." Jean's spectral form solidified next to him, her red hair framing her face in a fiery halo. Her voice was a seductive whisper in his ear, a sultry counterpoint to the rhythmic clap of Storm's ass against his thighs.

Ororo, for her part, was little more than a passive participant in Jean's sensual display. Her head lolled back, a dazed expression etched on her face as she reveled in the blissful sensations coursing through her. Each rise and fall of her hips brought forth a fresh wave of pleasure, an undeniable heat that coiled deep within her core before blossoming into a crescendo of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.

"Goddess, Jean!" she gasped. "I can't take it! It's too much! I'm going to—"

Before she could finish her sentence, she was abruptly cut off as her widely stretched womanhood erupted, spraying the tiles beneath her with a torrent of her girl-cum.

Her cries of ecstasy echoed through the chamber like a thunderclap. Her inner walls clamped down with unrelenting ****, her chocolate orbs clenching in an iron grip. The sheer intensity of the sensation left Mark breathless. He could feel every fiber of his being drawn towards its inevitable release, a wave of pleasure crashing over him like a tidal wave.

It was all he could do to hang on for dear life.

"Come for me, Mark," Jean urged as Ororo's body continued to convulse around him. "Don't hold back! This is what you were meant to do! This is what we're all here for!"